Via Crucis
by LithiumDoll
Summary: Matt's got apologies to make, and he's reasonably sure Jessica will hear him out before she punches him. He may be mistaken.


"I deserved that," Matt conceded, and winced as his fingers probed at the bruise already reddening his jaw. When he was reasonably sure there wouldn't be a follow-up, he smiled in what he hoped was a winning fashion, but had to admit probably drew with trepidation at best. "Can I come in?"

Jessica planted herself solidly in the doorway of her office and crossed her arms: entry denied. "Son of a bitch."

"Actually, no. It transpires." Matt settled back, hands clasped before him at court-room rest out of habit, rather than attire. Showing up at Jessica's door in a suit probably wouldn't do either of them any favors. "If you're busy, I can come back later."

"If I'm — Jesus." Jessica scowled. "Where the hell have you been? I thought it was some fake in the su—"

"It was," Matt interjected quickly, aware of the heartbeats behind the the doors lining the hall, and exactly how far sound carried this late at night. "It was a set up. And before that, well. A building fell on me. Turns out that's bad for your health. How's Luke? Danny?" His expression did something Jessica couldn't parse, but if she had to guess, she'd go with guilt. Seemed on brand. "Claire?"

"Go ask them yourself," she suggested flatly. "They're alive."

"Not sure my jaw could take it."

He had a point. And talking was apparently happening, and doing it in the hallway was stupid. Grudgingly, Jessica backed up to let him in.

"Danny booked it out of town with Ward Meachum - there's a pair," she said, when the door clicked shut. "Colleen's got the whole mystic fisting thing now. Luke and Claire split. He's holed up in Harlem, she's been working on some community outreach shit with Colleen and that cop. Knight."

Behind the red-tinted lenses, Matt blinked.

"You're dead for five minutes and everything goes to hell, right?" She laughed despite herself; he flinched as if she'd hit him again.

"What about you, Jessica?"

"What have you heard?"

The esteemed counselor tilted his head. "What do you think I've heard?"

"That ever work on anyone?"

He risked an unrepentant grin. "You'd be surprised."

And right about there, Jessica figured she had a choice: throw him out the door and out of her life, or get over it and move on. "You missed a hell of a team up," she said after a long enough pause that concern had crept into his expression. She waved a hand broadly in the general direction of a chair without too many files on it. "Spider-Man, Castle, an Avenger or two. SHIELD. That Deadpool guy. Real exciting."

Matt moved towards the chair, feeling for the files and bending to stack them neatly to the side before he sat. "Sorry I couldn't make it."

"No you aren't," she said, perching on the edge of her desk.

"Not even a little bit," he agreed, before his face tightened again. "Jessica, seriously. Are you-"

"I'm fine. Stop listening to my heartbeat. I know you are. It's creepy. And you're the last guy to ask anyone if they're okay . Like that even means anything."

Matt ducked his head, conceding the point if not the match. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Honestly? The sheer number of people I have to apologise to, at this point." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I keep wishing there was a way to do a blanket mea culpa, then feeling bad about that too."

"So, what? I'm a tick on your make good list? Save it. You made your choices and I made mine, and you didn't owe us jack. Hell, maybe it was my fault you were-" she cut off abruptly, rolling her eyes. "Nice. You apologize for making me think that and I'll make you wish another building fell on you."

"I've never done anything I didn't want to, for one reason or another," he said, and shrugged. "I'm just - I'm throwing that out there. If you're going to hit me, not the face."

"You're safe, but only because I don't want Page on my ass." She knew there wasn't any whiskey in her desk drawer, but she leaned back to check anyway. Pens. Fucking pens.

"Castle, huh?" Matt asked, while she scrabbled.

Thwarted, she straightened again. "I name-dropped Spider-Man and the Avengers, and you're worried about Frank Castle?"

"The Spider's a kid, and he knows better than to run around the Kitchen. The Avengers and SHIELD are not even close to being on my radar, and neither is Deadpool. Thank God." Matt's expression twisted with distaste. "The Punisher, on the other hand—"

"Wait. You know who the Spider is?"

"No. I overheard him talking once or twice, I think his voice is still breaking." His head tilted again. "Why? Do you?"

"Investigator-Client Privilege, sorry." She smiled thinly and put as much of her absolute lack of remorse into her tone as possible.

Matt looked faintly pained, for once because of his day job. "That isn't actually — that's not real. You don't tell people that's real, right?"

"You're the fancy lawyer - sue me. We were talking about your apology tour," she lied. "Who's the next step on your Stations of the Cross?"

"Tonight? You're the last." He bent to dig in the backpack at his feet. "I didn't think showing up at Claire's drunk when I was trying to make amends would be the best tactic. She doesn't punch as hard as you, but she knows how to make it hurt more."

"You're not— oh." Jessica reached forward and took the whiskey bottle from his outstretched hand. "You're forgiven."

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said I didn't owe you an apology."

"Changed my mind." She cast about for something approaching glasses, but none came immediately into view. Eh. She twisted the cap and drank straight from the bottle.

"How's Trish?" Matt asked, tone almost inflectionless.

Jessica swallowed thickly. "Great. How's Natchios? That was shitty," she apologized after a beat, and almost meant it.

"I don't know," Matt said, without obvious offence. "Alive. I think. I don't know," he said again, and looked down.

"Fuck." She haphazardly swiped at the neck of the bottle and held it out.

"Yeah," he agreed, and took the whiskey without lifting his head. Swallowed a mouthful without any apparent enjoyment. Catholics. "The Avengers, huh?"

"Stark. Turns out he's playing Big Brother to Spider-Kid. Which you could give a crap about - you want to know about Castle, you ask him."

"I don't know where he is," he said, and held the bottle in her general direction.

She took it. "You can hear halfway across the city and you're seriously trying to tell me you don't know where he is at all times?"

"He's been more than halfway across the city lately," Matt grumbled. "Besides, I've been otherwise occupied."

"Back in black. Shame about the ears," she smirked. "I kind of liked them."

"Horns," he corrected, without heat.

"Out of the two of us sitting in this room, who's the one who can actually see? I gotta tell it like it is, man: ears."

Matt laughed - huffed, really. Stilted, but real. "Fine. Either way, the red suit's gone, and I have no way to get another one. I'll figure something out."

"Ask Daddy Stark," she suggested, with more than a little saccharine. "He might hook you up if you say pretty please."

"Absolutely not." Matt hesitated, then. "You don't have to tell me about what happened."

What good will the whiskey had brought him drained away, and she didn't try and hold onto it. "Big of you," she said, coldly.

"But you can," he followed quickly. "If you want to. I won't—" his mouth twisted in self-deprecating amusement. "I'm a good listener."

"Yeah, here's the thing: I don't know you. I've spent more time with Nelson and Page than I ever did with you. We aren't friends. We went through some endlessly fucked up shit for a few days and then you were dead." She rolled the bottle between her palms, but didn't drink. "Why are you even here, Murdock? And don't give me bullshit about apologies."

His chin raised, ready to take the punch. "You know me. I know you. And maybe that's not a good thing, but it's— something." He shook his head. "I'll go."

Half a bottle of whiskey in her hands and torn up knuckles on his, and neither of them really knowing when to stop. How to stop. He was right: it was something.

Goddammit , Matt.

"I'm seeing a guy," she said as he shifted to stand. "That's new. A little - a lot - weird. You can probably smell him or whatever."

"That would be creepy," he said neutrally, which wasn't a 'no.'

"It really is. Guess it must be creepy for you too," she allowed.

"Not really. Not anymore. It's all just information."

"Danny's going to be pissed he missed you - you wouldn't believe how hard he was fanboying. He looked after the Kitchen as long as he could, he thought he should have figured out what your play was. Dick move, Murdock."

"Who was I supposed to ask? Luke has Harlem, and you would have-"

"Punched you out and carried your ass out of there bridal style." She grinned, showing more tooth than she needed to, though the effect was lost. "I've done it before. Ask Castle."

"He's already shot me in the head once, so I probably won't do that."

"You sticking around? I don't care," she added, quickly, before he got the wrong idea. "But it would be good to know."

"Foggy, Karen and I are re-opening the firm. We're going to try again." He risked another smile. "I like to think a building won't fall on me twice."

"Probably shouldn't put money on that." She held the bottle out; he took it. "But if I get clients who need a lawyer, and you're actually alive, maybe I'll send them your way."

"And if we get clients who need the services of a Private Investigator, we'll do the same. Maybe, eventually, we might even get to know each other."

"Don't hold your breath," she said, then, "okay."


End file.
